Her Name was Adel Magnellen
by Becca Renee
Summary: Her name was Adel Magnellen. She was what you would call submissive. She couldn’t help it. Enter Sirius Black, misunderstood playboy. Full Summary inside. T for now, probably will change.


**Summary**: Her name was Adel Magnellen. She was what you would call submissive. She couldn't help it. After years of being forced to do as she was told, she learned not to question. It wouldn't be so bad if she could just find someone who wouldn't take advantage of that. Enter Sirius Black, misunderstood playboy, who always thought he had at as bad as it got, but now begins to realize that maybe his life is worth enough to save another's.

**AN:** Ok, this was a completely random thing i wrote over the break when i was home alone and it was pouring rain. To be quite honest it's probably not very good, and i probably won't go anywhere. I mean if i get amazing feedback or something who knows... but just putting that out there. It's pretty short, and has only been read by me, so any mistakes, feel free to point them out. So... whatever. thanks for taking the time to read this dumb thing at all.

**Disclaimer**: Uhm.... clearly i don't own this. Well... i own a laptop and an acient version of Word. And Adel. That's about it.

I couldn't believe how beautiful she was. Sitting on the windows ledge, the moon shone over the flawless features of her creamy pale skin. Her eyes were shut tight, long, dark lashes resting on her cheeks, flushed a pastel pink from the cold of the night. Her copper red hair, long and shiny as silk flowed around her in the calm wind of autumn. Her rose red lips trembled, but whether it was from cold or fear, anxiety or absolute determination, I wasn't sure. The thin, insipid white nightgown failed to cover her long legs, dangling down over the grounds. The swell of her breast was clear through the fabric, a more then fair size, appreciable to say the least. Her bare feet swung helplessly below her, as though they too had given up hope. She looked vulnerable, small, easily breakable, like a porcelain doll sitting precariously on a shelf.

I stood stock still, mesmerized by this creature of the night, so stunning she surely had to be a dream. Invisible not just to her, but to all others, I could have stayed their all night, just to watch her silent form. I had gone out that night to relish in the darkness, the loneliness it always provided me. Tonight was the long awaited meteor shower, where the sky was supposed to be filled with bright streaks of shooting stars from dusk till dawn. But sadly, as though a metaphor for life, the clouds were too thick to see through, blocking the night sky like a veil of deep grey.

It didn't matter though, now that I had found her, whoever she was. I remember being told stories when I was young about how the most beautiful women in the world were evil, the devils demons in disguise. I refused to believe that about this girl, although she was unlike any creature I'd seen before. She gave off an air of innocence, but not one of peace. Shattered innocence, I pondered, like the first bloomed flower in spring plucked from the ground, as beautiful as ever, but doomed to a quick fatality.

I didn't recognize her, and I believed I was acquainted with most everyone in the school. This only fed into my belief that she was merely a figment of my imagination, a mirage due to lack of sleep, or the intense guilt I still couldn't shake. She reached one hand up to finger a small silver locket around her neck, twirling it in her fingers as it glittered like the stars I had been hoping for.

I was wary that she was only using one hand to hold herself up, and even more wary of the expression on her face. The longer she held the locket, the tighter her grip became, until her knuckles were white and her fist was completely enclosed around it. It was like the locket was causing her physical pain, the way her face scrunched up in agony. Her jaw clenched shut, probably to prevent what appeared to be an inevitable scream.

I saw the first and only tear run down her cheek a second to late, and before I knew it her delicate hands had done the unthinkable. She slipped from sight, the snap of her gown as it flapped up the only thing that made me realize it wasn't just my imagination. Immediately I broke from my trance and raced to the window. I reached over the ledge blindly, miraculously grabbing hold of something solid. I leaned over, whilst trying to pull up, to find I had caught my target by the wrist. She stared straight up at me, her jade green eyes wide in surprise. I had half expected her to have grown thick white wings and flown into the heavens, but her body hung over the grounds, fragile and struggling, the ground below looking like some kind of movie monster's abyss. For a moment we just stared at each other, realizing things separately, but finally finding ourselves with each others knowledge. Dangling in the air, seventeen stories above the ground, I height great enough to kill, she realized I had been watching her the entire time. Standing on cool grey marble, leaning over a stone window ledge, holding the arm of a girl I'd never met before who had just tried to jump out of the towers window, I realized she had been trying to kill herself.

I tugged harder, feeling like my life depended on saving hers. She was surprisingly light, and I soon had her back over the ledge, where she fell into me, shaking violently. Her knees gave way, and I had to wrap my arms around her waist to support her. Her head fell into my chest, her breathing erratic. Her fingers gripped onto my shoulders, as though she was still clinging for dear life.

I saw the blood then, or rather I _felt _it as it pooled on my shirt. I gently pulled her left arm away from me to get a closer look, and was met by the biggest surprise of the night. Her entire arm was covered in lines, some healed to the point of white or faint pink, some scabbed over and raised, and still others an angry red, blood seeping out at a deadly slow pace. Some of the cuts were set up in rows, flawlessly straight and evenly spaced, a successful attempt at morbid perfection, while others were jagged and criss-crossed over each other, reminiscent of a slasher-movie victim.

One particularly deep gash on her wrist was bleeding profusely, its intentions there all to clear to me, especially after what I had just stopped her from doing.

"How many ways can you try to kill yourself in one day?" I asked, not realizing the words that came out of my mouth, and how insensitive, obscene, utterly callous they sounded. It didn't matter though, because at that moment, her body went limp in my arms, and she passed out.

An: Review if you feel like it. Like i said before, my expectations for this story are practically non existent.


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